Sorry
by M. Pond
Summary: I'm sorry for your loss. That won't bring him back.


"I'm sorry for your loss."

Five simple words and yet people seem to think that it will make it all better, cure the unbearable pain. I stand here, dressed in black and I hear it over and over again. I hear it so many times that I just want to scream! Shout at them just to shut up, because their pathetic words make no difference to me. They don't help and they don't bring him back. What is the point of standing in front of me and stuttering that you're sorry, before taking your seat to listen to words about a man that you never truly knew? It sickens me.

More people arrive and time and time again I hear them saying those words. They look at me and I can see the pity in their eyes and I know that when they say their "sorry" they're not just talking about my loss, but also about the fact that I am now a nineteen year-old widower. A girl destined to grow old and weathered, while her young and handsome lover was taken in his prime. And yet, though they don't understand what I am going through, how I am going to have to struggle through everyday knowing that I will have to grow old without him, they still tell me that they're "sorry."

Sorry is just a word and it doesn't make everything better. I wonder if when they walk away they feel they have vanquished my pain, left me feeling slightly better. Well they're wrong. Do they even understand an ounce of what I am feeling, for if they did, if they truly knew, even a fraction of the pain that I feel every moment of everyday, they would know that sorry doesn't make it better.

How would they feel if I let it all out? Told them exactly how much I am hurting? Should I tell them? They could never understand. How could they?

Everynight, I lie lost in the darkness waiting for death to come for me. I lie there, shivering in what was once our bed, reaching out into the coldness of what was once his side, craving both him and death. Before I lost him I feared death, saw it as a shadow lurking around every corner, waiting for me. Yet now I welcome it with open arms, I want it to take me, take me away from the pain, but it never comes. Instead it leaves me there, taunting me and laughing at me, watching me crying out in despair.

I sometimes see it as a wonder that my body hasn't run out of tears yet. I have never known myself to cry so much at one time, however I just can't stop. Crying is the only way of releasing my emotions and thus they pour out day after day, doing nothing to quell my loss. I have never been a girl to cry, more of a tomboy keeping my emotions locked up inside, however losing him has released my emotions and now they tumble out uncontrollably like an overflowing skip. That's what I am to everyone else now, rubbish. Yet he saw me as treasure, a precious jewel, his angel. I smile at that. He was the one that always wanted me, chased me and yet now I am once again alone. Discarded.

I am feeling so much it is killing me and yet still death won't come, even when I am hurting so much. Even the tiniest, most simple thing hurts. Everytime I refer to something that was once ours as mine, a part of me dies. Our bed is now my bed; our home is now my home; our life is now my life. I've gone from being part of a couple, a pair, to being all alone. There is nothing in the world that can tear a person apart as much as that.

I still remember when I saw his body, a smile still playing on his lips. I was ripped apart right there and then and I have never been whole again since. When he died, a part of me died with him and yet the memories remained. Even though he is gone, I am still kept awake craving the tiny things my brain remembers; his warm breath when he whispered in my ear, his dirty laugh when he heard a joke, his strong arms wrapped around me keeping me warm at night. I want it all and my mind tortures me with the knowledge I can never have that back.

Even though I am feeling all of that, being torn apart every second of everyday, craving my lost love, those ignorant people still seem to feel those five words will make it all better:

"I'm sorry for your loss."

A/N: I wrote this for my English homework and I figured that I might as well post it here.

I hope you got who it was - or at least read the charater names up top :D I said I wouldn't write anything on Fred's death, but when our teacher we said could write anything - well :D

Anyway R+R - and if you read The diary of Angelina Johnson, I'll be updating in a day or two.


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